Forgotten But Not Gone
by SmurfZXC714
Summary: Her best friend was a bottle of beer. She'd lived that way for so long, her life going nowhere. But when a strange man shows up in a bar claiming he knows her everything she's ever believed in is thrown out the window. She couldn't even remember her own childhood.
1. The Dark Side of the Amber Glass

_**Forgotten but not Gone **  
_

* * *

_You're not alone  
I'll listen till your tears give out  
You're safe and sound, I swear that I won't let you down  
What's hurting you I, I feel it too  
I mean it when I say  
When you cry, I cry with you, with you_

_-Hunter Hayes_

* * *

_The Dark Side of the Amber Glass _

* * *

Her hand danced around the rim of the glass, trailing down the sides, looking at the golden liquid inside with a distinct interest. Anyone on that bar observing the girl wouldn't be confused at the look she was giving the glass. It was a look of self-loathing, but also one of satisfaction, remorse, every strong emotion all rolled into one. You could tell by one look that the girl was too young to have so many problems. But if you looked a little closer, at the dark circles beneath her eyes, the crinkle of her forehead, her limp, slender, boney body, and those empty eyes you could tell there was more beneath the surface. It was obvious she had a rough life, the thin scars bordering her arms and legs were little proof of that. She wasn't just a broken hearted girl; she was broken, looking as though darkness had been poisoning her mind and she had given up trying to fight it.

Her fingers twirled the glass; it was the only thing she had looked at since receiving it. She didn't watch the door, she never looked around for a comforting face, nor did she ever pull out her phone. She spoke to no one but the bartender, and only to ask for another. It had become an addiction to her— the alcohol. Like so many others she had fallen under its whim, basking in the feeling of a weight being lifted it bought. She loved the taste and she loved what it did to her. Besides, there was no one to tell her not to.

She was so alone. There was nothing— nobody that would miss her if she died. She would be at a grave with nothing but a name— if even that. Her funeral would cease to exist, as no one would arrange one let alone show up. She was alone, as she had been for the better part of her young life.

And she was young, only twenty two when her addiction began. She believed her life had deteriorated to a point of nothing. She had wasted her life down the drain.

There was once a light at the end of the tunnel, a boy, as it always it. He had changed her from a scared and shy adolescent to a more confident, happy person. But she supposed he just couldn't quite change her because he had left claiming that she wasn't the person he thought she was. She had cried endlessly and it had broken her.

And just like that— the light at the end of the tunnel went out.

And now all she had was darkness. She may have once been a fighter, but it didn't matter anymore. What could you fight for if you had nothing? Her childhood was a blur, and she was certain it couldn't have been good if she didn't remember anything. Her life wasn't a mess; it was actually very straight forward. She wasn't lost— she had just stopped following the path and collapsed on the side. She was done with trying to make things better for herself. She was exhausted and the only thing that sparkled for her was the many drops of alcohol that refilled her glass.

"Can I buy you a drink?" A strong, deeply male voice said from beside her. She didn't look up, assuming he was talking to someone else. Who would try and hit on a girl who looked as though she had just been hit by an eighteen wheeler?

"Can I buy you a drink?" the voice asked again, this time a breath on her ear. The voice made her want turn around and kiss that guy senseless. It was deep and velvety making her body shiver but at the same time making her feel as though she was wrapped in a cozy blanket.

This time she turned her head, meeting eyes with a dark green pair so enchanting she wasn't sure what was going through her mind.

There was obviously recognition in his face, but Cammie couldn't remember him, not being able to place a name to the gorgeous face in front of her.

"Cameron?" he asked.

She was surprised, hearing her name come out of his mouth, a confirmation that he did in fact know who she was.

"Um, yes. Do I know you?" she asked, hoping she didn't seem rude. "Look if we ever hooked up I'm sorry but I don't remember—"

He laughed, deep and throating making her feel like she was floating. "No," he said. "It's not like that."

"I'm so sorry. I don't remember you; maybe you've got the wrong person."

He knew he didn't have the wrong person. He recognized the sad eyes.

"I don't think so," he took a seat next to her. "Cameron… Morgan?"

She almost laughed. "Alright, I'm getting a little creeped out now."

"I was your next door neighbor when we were little," he said. "Like six to twelve?"

She didn't remember, but then again, she didn't remember a lot of her childhood. She shook her head. "I have a bad memory."

He laughed. "And I have a good one."

She smiled. "I'm sure."

"So what brings you to Los Angeles?"

She looked up. "I live here."

"I realized," he said. "But why did you move here?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked. "I've always lived here."

Now he looked confused. "Cammie we grew up in Texas."

"No we didn't, I've never lived in Texas." She was sure of this.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look kind of pale."

"I'm fine."

"Cammie are you drunk?" he asked.

"I don't think you have any right to ask that."

"You don't remember where you lived."

She sighed. "There's a lot I don't remember. You're name for instance."

He looked at her strangely before realizing he hadn't even given her a name. "Zach Goode."

The name did come with memories, surprising her. She saw a little brunette boy swinging on a swing looking at her happily asking her to come and swing with him.

"Zach," she echoed.

He nodded. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I've never been okay."

"Not the way I remember it."

She looked at him. She could barely remember her childhood, maybe he was the key to it all.

"How do you remember it?"

He grinned. "You were the prettiest girl on the block."

She turned a bit red. "Things change I guess then."

"I don't think so."

She shook her head. "You don't get it."

"Of course I don't, you won't tell me."

"I don't even know you."

"You do, but even if you didn't. Wouldn't you rather spill your feelings to a stranger anyway?" His eyes were so enchanting. It was almost as if he was casting a spell on her. He had this look on his face, his gorgeous—

"No."

"Then who would you spill your secrets to?"

She shook her head. "No one— I wouldn't."

"So let's switch it up for a night."

"I don't have anything," she said, even though it was random he knew what she meant. "Nothing."

"You have that beer," he said, nodding to the glass.

She looked at it then swallowed the rest of it. "I know. That's all I ever have, beer, alcohol. My constant I guess you could call it."

He smirked at her. "Doesn't seem like a very good constant."

She shrugged. "It makes me feel good."

"_I _could make you feel good."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not in the mood to get hit on, perv."

He laughed. "I was kidding." He looked at her, his green eyes glinting. His hand crept towards his her glass, closing his hand around it and sliding it away from her.

"What are you doing?"

"I think you've had enough."

She scowled at him. "You don't even know me. Go bother someone else."

Zach rolled her eyes at her words. "I knew you for like seven years, I think that counts."

"It doesn't count if I don't remember it."

"Don't you want to?"

"No. Because it's probably as depressing as the rest of my life."

"What are you talking about? You were the happiest kid I knew."

She laughed. "I seriously doubt that."

"I'm not kidding. You were always smiling."

A question then creeped into her head. "What were my parents like?"

"You seriously don't remember?"

She shook her head.

"Cam, you lived with you Aunt and Uncle."

Her eyes went wide. "No I lived with my parents."

"Not in Texas. When you moved away when we were like thirteen you went to go back to your parents," he said. And when he said that she vaguely remembered her

Aunt's long dark hair and her Uncle's grassy bright green eyes.

"Oh," she muttered. "Yeah."

He coaxed the drink she had snatched back out of his hand.

"I could show you pictures if you want," he said seriously, the concern in his voice surprising her. "My mom went a little crazy back then."

"Pictures," she echoed.

Zach looked at the little scars on her arms, and then at the ones on her ankles.

"What happened to you?" he asked quietly, kindly.

She was looking at the half full glass in his hand. "Life."

"What kind of life?"

She sighed. "A bad one. Can you leave me alone now?" she asked.

"You don't want to see the pictures?" he wondered.

She shook her head, and even though she felt the urge to retrieve her glass she sat still. "I don't want to see the pictures."

"How are your parents?"

"Zach," she said, softly. "Will you please leave?"

She didn't look at him, instead turning around and resting her arms on the counter, letting her head sink down on the table.

"Sure."

She felt a light tap on her shoulder and then nothing and she knew that he had gone.

She sighed, reaching out and grabbing the glass he had set down on the table. She looked at the amber liquid and then looked back at the door, which was just about to fall closed. Then she glanced back at the glass, and raising it to her lips, she swallowed it all.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I own no characters. **

_Ok so this is three shot. Cammie's a alcoholic and can't remember her child hood. Hmm... what's going on? Hahaha read next chapie to find out. ::))))  
Review? Please? _


	2. A Trip Down Memory Lane

**_Forgotten But Not Gone _**

* * *

_So let it hurt, let it bleed  
Let it take you right down to your knees  
Let it burn to the worst degree  
May not be what you want, but it's what you need  
Sometimes the only way around it  
Is to let love do it's work  
And let it hurt_

_-Rascal Flatts_

_(Let It Hurt)_

* * *

_A Trip Down Memory Lane _

* * *

It wasn't till two nights later when she saw him again. She hadn't expected to see the strange familiar man she couldn't quite remember again. But since he'd been so kind and concerned about her she couldn't help but think about him. For some reason she hadn't drunk as much that night. For once it didn't seem like an answer, but still, she ordered a drink, but only to hold it in her hands. The glass was familiar and cool to her touch, one of the only comforts she could find these days.

"Hey," the silky voice was familiar and she turned the first time, knowing the greeting was directed at her.

"You came back." It wasn't a question.

He smiled at her and took a seat on the barstool next to her. "I did."

She noticed his hand held a bundle of small papers— photographs in his hands, held together with a rubber band.

"You brought photographs," she said in the same tone.

He nodded. "I thought you might want to know I wasn't creeping on you. Everything I said was true."

He handed her the stack of photos. On top she saw a young girl and boy swinging on a child's play set, reaching over and holding hands. She could clearly tell the boy was a young Zach, but the girl looked so happy and carefree; it couldn't have been her.

"See?" he asked as she flipped through more of the pictures, all of them of the two children. "I wasn't lying."

"This isn't me."

He looked at her strangely. "Are you kidding?"

She shook her head and handed the photos back over to him.

"Of course it is." He looked at the photo on top, "this is definitely you. You look exactly the same."

The girl in the picture had blonde hair and blue eyes, like Cammie did now. But the expression she was wearing wasn't one Cammie had ever used.

"No."

"You're crazy." She shrugged.

He pulled another picture from the stack. "Remember them?"

It was picture of a gorgeous woman with long dark hair standing next to the girl, a different man in the back ground his hair even darker then the lady's his eyes bright green.

"Abby," Cammie said without realizing she had. "Aunt Abby."

Zach nodded, seeming pleased with himself. He pointed to the man.

"Uncle Joe."

He nodded again. "And that's you," he said, pointing back to the girl.

Cammie knew it must have been her; there wasn't anyone else it could be. She took the photo.

"Zach?" she asked quietly. "What happened to me?"

He looked at her like he didn't understand her question.

"I can't remember my childhood, I barely remember you and my Aunt and Uncle. My life is a mess. _What happened to me_?"

"I don't know," he said, and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "But I don't think we're going to find out sitting in a tiny bar in L.A."

She nodded. "I don't know what happened to me. . ."

"Come on," he said and got up, pulling her along. He slapped a number of bills on the counter for the bartender before gripping her hand and leading her out of the bar.

"We can go to my place."

She allowed him to pull her along; she didn't know what else to do. She had never felt lost before; she'd always known her place. But now she did feel lost, desperate to know the life she couldn't remember.

Zach wasn't exactly living the highlife. He had a large apartment he shared with three other guys. It was a very college-y way of living and it took her a moment to realize he was in college.

It was typical guys place, messy and smelled of guy funk.

But it was nice enough, better than what she had.

"Do you want to take a shower?" he asked.

Her eye brows pulled together. "Do I smell or something?"

He laughed and shook his head. "You smell like a bar."

She shrugged. "That would make sense."

"Come on," he showed her to his room, which seemed even messier then the kitchen and living room. He grinned sheepishly. "I wasn't expecting company."

He kept walking till he she found herself in a tight little bathroom.

"Use whatever you want," he said. "I'm going to go if I can see if I can find you some suitable clothes."

She smiled and nodded as he pulled the door shut as he left.

When she was through showering she felt considerably different. She looked in the mirror, noticing her eyes were clear and bluer than they usually were, not a trace of eye makeup to be found. Her skin was clear, one of the things she'd always been proud about. Her hair was healthier looking as she pulled Zach's comb through it.

When she was done with a big white towel wrapped around her the ventured off to find Zach.

She walked into the kitchen and found a different man though. She assumed it was one of the roommates Zach had mentioned.

She cleared her throat at the man rummaging through the refrigerator.

He turned around, took one look at her and dropped the box of Chinese food he'd pulled. Cammie decided he was actually very attractive, looking a lot like a young version of Brad Pitt.

"Who are you?" he asked, staring at her like she was the most amazing thing in the world. She felt flattered, as often men didn't take a second glance at her. But she supposed she didn't look as trampy without her thick makeup and sultry dresses.

"Cammie," she replied. "Where's Zach?"

"_You're_ with Zach?" he practically spat, his eyes wide.

"Um. . . yes?"

"Well I guess he ditched you because he left about ten minutes ago," the man said.

She rolled her eyes. "Great. Do you have a shirt I can borrow?"

His eyes went a bit bigger. "Are you serious?"

"Are you slow?"

He sent a silent glare at her. "I'll be back in a second."

She remained in the kitchen, holding the towel to her chest till the boy returned with a folded shirt.

"It's mine and kind of small so . . ." she took it gratefully sending him an appreciative smile.

"Thanks," she said and pulled it over her head and once it covered her let the towel drop.

He stared, wide eyed.

"What?' she asked.

"Under that shirt you're naked."

She looked at him stupidly. "Yes, and under your clothes your naked too."

"But—"

"I'm guessing you don't have any girl's underwear?"

He gave her a sly smile. "Not clean ones."

She scrunched her nose up in disgust. "Great, I guess I'll have to do without."

Cammie had gone most of her life living with things she probably needed but couldn't get. To her this was no different.

"I actually think Zach might have gone to get you some clothes," he said.

"And you've known that all this time?" she wondered.

He shook his head and pointed to the door where Zach was coming in, a couple of plastic bags on his arms.

"Grant," he sighed. "What are you doing?"

"I was helping the girl _you_ left all alone."

"She was in the shower, and I left to get her clothes so she wouldn't feel uncomfortable."

Cammie didn't say anything, even though she felt anything but _comfortable_ with Zach going out and buying her clothes.

He handed her the bag. She took it reluctantly, not saying anything as she retreated to Zach's room to change.

When she returned, the two were at the small table off to the side, munching on Chinese.

"Yum," she said, taking a seat with them, just taking food from Grant's container. "Mandarin Chicken," she said. "Good choice."

Grant looked at her with disbelief before he turned to look at Zach, his expression becoming amused.

"_Dude_," He said. "Where did you find this chick?"

Zach smiled and shook her head. "LA."

Grant rolled his eyes and looked at Cammie. "Will you marry me?"

She laughed. "Was that supposed to be a pick up line?"

"Zach!" he said, almost squealing. "She knew it was a pickup line!"

Zach rolled his eyes. "Grant's been trying that for years and girls just look at him weirdly. I told him to stop but he was convinced. Thanks for helping my cause."

She laughed and looked at Grant, who was now pouting. "Ignore him Grant. I think it's a great pickup line."

He grinned. "Forward, but effective."

"Not really," Zach muttered beneath his breath.

Cammie nudged him playfully. "Kill joy."

"I could seriously kiss you."

She stopped laughing. "Please don't." He looked at her seriously for a moment before for of them broke into laughter.

Zach watched with an amused expression. No doubt these two were cut from the same cloth.

"Anyway," Zach said. "Back to the matter at hand."

Cammie nodded, still eating Grant's food.

"Which is?" Grant asked.

Zach took a moment to fill him in.

Grant looked at Cammie quizzically. "You don't remember your childhood."

"Nope."

"Must not have been very good."

"That's what I've been saying," Cammie replied. "But Zach here seems to remember us being gloriously happy."

Zach pushed the photos towards Grant, and he began to flip through them.

"Aww," he said. "You were so cute."

"Thanks," Cammie said.

"I was talking about Zach."

They all laughed. Cammie really liked Grant; he was such a kindred spirit. Someone she could easily spend a lot of time with.

"Whatever," Zach started. "Cam, I think we should call your aunt and uncle."

"And how do you suppose we do that? I don't have a number for them."

"The internet is an amazing place."

"Are you serious?"

Slowly, he nodded his head. "What else can we do?"

She shrugged— she didn't know.

He pulled something, piece of paper, out of his pocket.

"What's that?"

"Their number."

She looked at him in disbelief. "You already got it?"

"I was going to call them even if you didn't decide to come with me. I was worried about you," he said, his voice completely sincere.

"There's our Zach, being such a Good Samaritan," Grant said sarcastically.

Cammie raised an eyebrow.

"Zach's normally an ass," Grant explained.

"That is not true," Zach denied. "Don't listen to him."

When Zach wasn't looking Grant looked at Cammie and nodded his head.

She laughed. "Well."

"Well what?"

"Are we going to call them or not?"

* * *

_Hope you guys enjoyed :)_

_Uno Chapter Left _


	3. You Are All I Need

**_Forgotten But Not Gone _**

* * *

_There now, steady love, so few come and don't go  
Will you, won't you be the one I always know?  
When I'm losing my control, the city spins around  
You're the only one who knows, you slow it down_

_-The Fray  
(Look After You) _

* * *

**You Are All I Need **

* * *

Her parents had died in a car crash, about three years or so after she'd moved back in with them. She was only sixteen. When they'd died he aunt and Uncle reached out to her but she denied their help, and demanded she live on her own in her parent's big empty house. After their death they decided if she did that she'd need to see a shrink. But her parents death was impacting her life to much, making her sad and depressed so for some reason she began blocking it out. She packed the old useless memories into boxes in her head and taped them shut. She'd forgotten her life before she moved with her parents because she wanted to believe that she'd never wasted any time without them. She'd forgotten they'd died and she spent the rest of her life thinking they were still alive. She didn't know why, but that was the way it was.

She returned to her shrink and he told her since all the emotions were so painful she'd repressed her memory in order to deal with the pain. He told her it happened to other people, it wasn't common, but not unheard of.

When Cammie found out she'd forgotten a huge chunk of her life she felt relieved and devastated at the same time. Relieved because now she knew her whole life wasn't a waste, and she wasn't going to let it run her run into the ground anymore. But she was devastated, well, because she found out he parents were dead. Even though it was her second time knowing the pain felt as fresh and sharp as though it had just happened.

Zach couldn't help but staring at Cammie on the couch, tears streaming down her face. He wanted to comfort her but was too stunned to move. So he just sat there and watched, his guilt burning his body.

"Cammie—" he choked but couldn't find the words he wanted to say. He didn't know what to say. What do you say to a girl who just found out, probably for the second time, that her parents were dead? Exactly. He didn't know either.

After what felt like a life time he managed to get up and shuffle his feet across the floor, taking a seat next to her. "I'm so sorry."

She just shook her head, still sobbing uncontrollably. He put his arm around her, bring her into his chest, shhing her even though he knew it wouldn't work.

It seemed like hours she cried until finally is became less frequent until she was fast asleep, escaping into a dream world.

Zach didn't move, not daring to jostle her. He wouldn't wake her up because he knew when she did wake up she'd just feel and overwhelming pain and start crying again.

He couldn't blame her, if what happened to her happened to him he'd probably be crying like a baby to.

…

When Cammie woke up her throat was dry and sore and she knew she needed water. She opened her eyes, which were crushed with dry tears, and saw it was dark in

Zach's apartment and she was lying in a bed with Zach. They were both on top of the covers, her snuggled up to his side. He was fast asleep, snoring lightly.

She crept away from him, careful not to jostle the bed. She snuck into the kitchen, downing a glass of water before seeking the beer out of the fridge. She needed it.

Alcohol was her friend; it helped her when she needed the pain to go away. And right now she needed all the friends she could get. She'd already finished a beer and a half before Zach entered the kitchen.

"You sure that was a good idea?" he asked.

She shrugged, it was to her.

He walked up to her, prying the bottle from her hands, "You don't need this."

She tried to hold onto but he got it, pouring the amber liquid into the sink.

"You don't understand."

And he didn't completely, but more than she thought he did. Zach sighed.

"You don't need it," he repeated.

"I _want _it."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Cammie."

She didn't answer, keeping her gaze on the marble countertop.

"I'm sorry," she heard Zach say. She glanced up at him.

"Why?"

"I brought this on you. If I hadn't interfered—"

"It's not your fault."

She didn't blame him. In fact, if anything, she would like to thank him.

"But I—"

"Zach," she cut him off. "I would never want to live the rest of my life in the dark. If you hadn't done anything I'd be in a bar in LA drunk out of my mind."

He didn't say anything.

"I needed to know. It hurts but it will make things better."

"Then why are you drinking now?" he asked.

She gave a small smile. "Like I said, it still hurts. Right now."

"Are you going to be okay?" he wondered.

She nodded. "One day."

"But not today."

She shook her head. "Or tomorrow. Or the next day."

He nodded, seeming to understand her.

"I can't believe I forgot everything," she said. "I mean, who does that?"

"You."

She laughed but it fell flat. "I couldn't remember my own goddamned childhood."

"You do now."

"My parents are dead."

"I know."

"They've been dead for years."

"I know."

"And I forgot."

She expected him to say 'I know' again but instead he said, "It's not your fault."

"Yes it is," she insisted. "My brain blocked it out. Repressed everything."

"You were young, that was how you dealt with the pain."

She shook her head. "That shouldn't be an excuse. It wasn't fair to me. It wasn't fair to my aunt and uncle; it wasn't fair to the memory of my parents."

He held her in his arms, trying to comfort her.

"You remember now."

She nodded, but tears came down her face.

"I should never have forgotten."

He didn't know how to respond to that so instead he just held her close, telling her he was there for her. And after a little while, very quietly, she said "Thank You Zach."

…

After that, Cammie moved in with Zach. He was her savior, someone she trusted unconditionally. In a sense, he'd saved her life. He saved her from a life of misery and false regret. He gave her something she'd forgotten she'd ever had. And she couldn't feel more gratitude towards him.

Not to mention she totally had the hots for him, and apparently, he felt the same way. He'd asked her to move in with him; mostly because he couldn't stand that shit hole she called her apartment. She obliged, happy to let him spoil her. He was so kind her, even though Grant was often telling her stories of how much of an ass he used to be. He told her she was Zach's saving grace. And she liked to think that maybe she'd helped him, although not as much as he'd helped her.

When Zach got home from work he found Cammie packing up her suitcases. He panicked, they'd had a stupid fight this morning, and he'd just brought her flowers to apologize.

"What are you doing?" He asked, panic evident in his voice.

She turned around and was smiling. "I'm not leaving you if that's what you think."

It sent a rush of relief through him. "Good," he handed her the flowers.

"Thank you," she said, and kissed him, their petty argument long since forgotten.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, but this time his voice was curious.

"Packing."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically.

She laughed. "I just thought it was time I saw my aunt and uncle. After everything I put them through."

He nodded, agreeing with her.

"Do you know what you're going to say to them?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No idea. I'm hoping it will come to me."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," she said, not unkindly. "I think I should do it by myself. For now."

He nodded, understanding. "Alright. When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning," she answered, zipping up the suitcase.

She grabbed his hand and took him into the kitchen. Grant and Jonas were sitting at the table, drinking beer, a sixpack on the table.

"Want one?" Grant offered to her.

She shook her head, she been sober for a month. Being with Zach showed her she didn't need it. Sure, she'd though Alcohol was her friend, and maybe it was. But it would only hurt more than it would help in the long run. And besides, she had Zach. He never failed to make her feel better.

He was much better at caring for her than any alcohol was.

"Nope," she said, and squeezed Zach's hand. "I've got all I need."


End file.
